


Sailing Free

by Kei_LS



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Give Ace His Freedom Back, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, That Time Ace got Shanghaied by Pirates, They use them, Warnings May Change, currently only the first two tags apply, for all that they're a baby crew in the New World, i have no idea what im doing, so i have no idea how this is gonna play out, the Spade Pirates have resources and allies, this story is not particularly kind about what went down with Ace's recruitment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kei_LS/pseuds/Kei_LS
Summary: Every member of the Spade Pirates is going to get off of the Moby Dick. Captain's orders. (The Spade Pirates don't particularly have a problem with this, but Ace probably should have thought about his orders a little harder. After all, Captain's a member too.)Or: Ace leaves the Spade Pirates to go play with the pirate-stealing Whitebeard Pirates instead. The Spade Pirates take rather more exception to this than anyone was expecting. And on the seas a grudge can last a long time, indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure I fell out of one piece for a very long time after ace died. because he was my favorite. and i was sad. and now here i am, writing things i have no business writing because oops I don't know all that much about one piece anymore ah ha.
> 
> This is not a particularly nice story for the Whitebeard Pirates. So if your love for them is unconditional and uncompromising, this is probably not going to be a fun ride. But I had to get this out of my head. However much of it I can until I *completely* lose the thread. So. Cheers~ (i tried to post this once already and lost everything....this is not a very auspicious start)

Women don’t fight on Whitebeard’s ship.

Of all the things Ace has reservations about, of all the rules and understandings and assumptions the Whitebeards have and that their Captain makes, that’s the one that sticks to the forefront of his mind while he lays down and lets them mark up his back. It’s the most incomprehensible of all the rules he’s heard and learned and intrinsically understood without having someone spell it out for him, and of all of them it’s the one he thinks encompasses everything he hates about the Whitebeard pirates and their Captain most. It’s certainly the most condescending.

Dadan would have taken a cleaver to his face, big shot emperor of the sea or not, and hacked him to pieces. Stone cold sober, like she never really is, she’d look him dead in the eye and spit at his feet if he dared to tell her what she could and couldn’t fight.

He hadn’t thought about her in a long time. He didn’t love her, but damn if she hadn’t raised him to be smarter than that. Whitebeard would have Ace call him Pops and accept him as a father. Dadan, weaker than even him and with no desire to conquer the seas, would have his balls in a vice under an hour if she knew he was doing this. Not even for his own sake.

Ace was going to be sick if he ever saw Banshee or Cornelia in one of those outfits comfortably patching up the men and casually threatening them like they could back up the words themselves rather than need to run Newgate to enforce it.

He doesn’t know how many of the women on the Moby Dick started off like they did, or just got picked up along the way, or are on some kind of contract to get their sense of adventure under a safe banner before settling back on some island with the perk of declaring they used to sail under Whitebeard. He doesn’t want to know. Warriors with blunted edges, birds with clipped wings, Ace isn’t naïve enough to believe that he’s the only one that’s joined Whitebeard like this.

Because of this.

Pride was a pretty stupid thing when he got right down to it.

They had his crew now, the last of them, and more than anything that’s what had finally made him fold. That man – Phoenix Marco – had said he could be dropped off anytime. Like it was obvious. Like it’d be a gift for him if only Ace asked, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d played this game before with Bluejam. If he’d been telling the truth, then Ace would have been let go when he’d demanded it the first however many times back during that first week – that first month. If they wanted him happy they’d have given him back to his crew, or given his crew to him, instead of playing keep away until he thought so much he snapped and had to try and kill Whitebeard again, just to make it _end._ One way or another.

They didn’t want the Spade pirates. They wanted Ace. But they’d _taken_ the Spade pirates, because Ace was too prideful to stop, and too stubborn to let go of the people he’d found and gathered and made his nakama.

They weren’t dead yet. Might not be hurt too badly. One hundred fights, and Ace hadn’t made a dent, hadn’t improved at all. Not even Sabo would’ve said otherwise.

It had been a long time since Ace felt pain, real lingering physical hurt, but he keeps his focus and holds the seastone bar in his hands and pays attention to every drag of the needle that marks out the pattern on his back. He couldn’t keep them. He couldn’t keep any of them.

Cornelia might adapt, be one of the harder nurses that wouldn’t need Whitebeard or one of the commanders at hand to make a grown man cry, but Banshee would go stir crazy within two weeks, and lose patience with everyone that breathed in her direction within three.

He couldn’t keep Kotatsu. The lynx had been the only one to sneak up and steal time with him, and he loved the furball and how bold he’d become so much it hurt, but the ship was too big and there were only so many harmless remarks Ace could stand to hear about how good it would be to have emergency food in stock on the Moby Dick before he started to think there was a thread of truth behind the words. And if anyone dared to hurt a member of his crew he’d kill them or die trying, Whitebeard or no Whitebeard.

Skull wouldn’t stay. He probably could, and this would be…it’d certainly be something for him, but this wasn’t the kind of pirate ship Skull wanted to explore on, and there was enough pride here to cloud the air for miles. No one would accept that he wasn’t a pirate, most might even take offense to him sticking around too long if he insisted on making that divide, and Ace wasn’t about to make him choose. He’d leave, and maybe he’d look after Kotatsu for a while, and that was the best he could hope for – the only thing he could ask for, when he probably didn’t deserve even that much.

He couldn’t ask any of the others to stay tethered to the ship, to this crew, to that man. And he couldn’t keep them chained to him, when he was all but abandoning them. There was a whole sea out there, the Grand Line and all the Blues and he couldn’t keep them tied down to a route, to a territory, no matter how big and guarded Whitebeard’s was. He couldn’t steal their freedom, when they’d already fought so hard and given up so much.

But he was the Captain. Telling them would be his responsibility, and he’d be damned if anyone else went to disband his Spade pirates. He’d chosen a good crew. It was time to let them go. And they would leave, every single one of them, if he had to kick them off of the Moby Dick himself.

He keeps the seastone, so he can feel the twinge on his back for as long as it takes to heal – the pain negligible but annoyingly constant. His fingers lift, briefly, to the tattoo on his arm and brush down the letters. Compared to His five minutes, Ace had practically had a lifetime of freedom.

Luffy would have even longer. And his crew would live, even if they weren’t with him. In the New World, that was more than most got.

There’s more than one commander, including the first mate, that’s in the room looking fiercely proud. Ace turns to the only one that matters.

“Is there a kind of quiet place I can see the Spades?” Marco’s a smart man; there isn’t even a pause when he dips his head in acquiescence.

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

His heart beat heavily in his chest, but his resolve kept him standing.

If it gave them a chance, if they never forgave him, at least they could sail free.


	2. Chapter 2

“Captain,” Saber’s excitement died before it could fully form, even though Captain was grinning at all of them wide and bright. They’d been rounded up, more or less, occupying one of the rooms he was pretty sure was a usual meeting place for the commanders, left mostly alone. For the first time, Saber isn’t sure he should be all that grateful for it.

“Guys,” Ace says, and he sounds – wrong. Cheerful and bright to match the wide grin on his face but the brim of his hat covers his eyes and there’s _something wrong._ Saber cuts a glance to Deuce, but the man hasn’t moved once since they got here and Ace’s arrival doesn’t change the way his arms are crossed or the frown on his face. Mihar hasn’t taken his eyes off of Captain either, even though Saber meets Pinnacle’s concerned look with one of his own. Skull’s the one to reply, straightening up.

“Pirates are funny things, ey, Captain?” he asks. For a self-proclaimed pirate enthusiast, he sounds grim, and it’s as close to a bad word as Saber’s ever heard him get about his lifelong passion. Kotatsu pads forward, tail twitching cautiously and Ace immediately crouches down for him, rubbing behind his ears and scratching under his chin.

“Pirates do what they want,” Ace concedes, tracing over Kotatsu’s ears to feel them twitch away. “You’re all okay?”

“Right as rain,” Dogya confirms, while Kotatsu purrs happily and generally gets spoiled by Captain’s attention.

“Good. There’s a neutral island coming up, you’re all going to be dropped off there.”

“Us?”

“Sending out _another_ challenge, Captain?” Mihar asks. Saber wants to believe its tired aggravation that makes his voice sound so flat, but there’s a shrewd look in his eyes now and the tension ripples through the Spade pirates. As fun as it is to watch their Captain get thrown overboard and fished out daily, it turns out that no actually it’s not that fun or funny at all. Saber wants to be relieved, wants Ace to say yes and duke it out properly on land, lose so they can finally move on, get away and get stronger for the next time when they’re _all_ ready to be on par with this massive crew.

He wants to but he’s not that delusional. He doesn’t need it spelled out for him, and his fingers curl into fists, nails biting into his palms while unease twists and settles into something cold and heavy in his gut but burning hot in his chest.

“No, not this time,” Ace answers, tipping his head lower and getting a gentle lick from Kotatsu for the trouble. Then he stands and Saber can see his face properly and – his throat tightens and it’s like he’s gotten stabbed straight through a lung, the soft wheeze of air he makes and the way he can’t breathe in right.

Ace lifts a hand to rub the back of his head, sheepish and guilty like he’s finally gotten a sense of how much daily trouble he is (but it’s all wrong, all wrong because being polite and carefree and careless is what makes Captain _Ace_ and sure Saber wanted to smack him over the head plenty of times but not one of them ever wants him to actually _change_ ), and looks so unbearably fond that Saber already knows before he even opens his mouth. “When we hit that island, you’re all going to leave. It’s inhabited, so you won’t be stuck there, and I’ll make sure you all get enough supplies and funds to get you wherever you want to go. Enough to repair the damage you lot already caused the ship and get you on your way. Wherever that is.”

“Captain, choosing the destination is your job,” Kukai reminds, like Ace isn’t cutting into them and carving them away, like Kukai doesn’t _get it_.

“I’m not your Captain anymore.”

Simple. Direct. Because Ace isn’t anything else, even when he’s doing something so twisted and wrong it takes Saber a few extra seconds to catch up.

_I’m hungry. We’re going straight ahead._

_Wow, you’re kind of cool after all. You should join up with me._

_I’m going to fight Whitebeard._

_I’m not your Captain anymore._

“As of this moment, the Spade pirates are disbanded. We’re done.”

The outrage isn’t immediate, but it is loud, and Ducky Bree isn’t the only one shouting protests and demands, more than one of them left with fingers that itch to take a weapon – to the ship, to the Whitebeards, to their Captain, but all of them flounder. Even Mihar and Skull don’t take it stoically for all that they had to have seen it coming, had to have known long before this moment.

All but one. Masked Deuce hasn’t moved, hasn’t so much as twitched, and Saber knows better but he rounds on him anyway.

“What is wrong with you?! Why aren’t you saying anything!? Stop standing there acting like you don’t care bastard you’re the first mate aren’t you? It’s your job to knock sense into the Captain!”

“Saber,” Ace says. Just that, and for a second that’s all it takes. But the only man who could give him commands is his captain, and _he doesn’t have one of those anymore._ “Don’t-”

“No, you shut up! I don’t know who you are but you’re not Ace! Our Ace wouldn’t even joke about-”

“I’m not-”

“Saber’s right!” Wallace growls, and the sound of Cornelia’s heel smashing through something is as distinctive as ever. Hublot, Ossamondo, and Aggie 68 all look ready to smash walls apart, Banshee’s gun clicking ominously while Kotatsu’s fur bristles and he’s aware in a distant way that Pinnacle and Barry are moving to stand beside him. There’s a chorus of agreements, the beginnings of a furious riot building. Ace raises the temperature, a warning in itself – their Captain turned on them – and that worsens the furor before Deuce cuts into the outrage.

“Why?” Ace tilts his head, the sudden silence ramping up the tension between them because it hurt too much to ask and no answer could possibly be good enough. But Deuce waits him out and Ace is the one that twitches, shoulder jerking like he’d actually been struck before turning his back.

Saber’s never hated much of anything, always figured if he was going to put in that much effort it may as well be personal and for everything he’s been through he’d never found anything worth all that extra energy. Looking at Ace’s back though, at the wide mocking grin of Whitebeard’s mark inked onto his skin, at the _brand_ claiming ownership (of _his Captain_ , damn it) Saber thinks he might understand it. How some people can take one look at a symbol and get filled with so much rage they choke on it. It’s Deuce that wanted to know, and it’s Deuce that reaches out and brushes gentle fingers over the stiff line of Ace’s shoulders, “You idiot.”

“You’re all leaving,” Ace says again, flat and hard, “when we reach that island. If I have to kick your dumb asses over the railing myself.”

“Hey, you can’t just-”

“Let him go, Ganryu,” Deuce orders, but Saber barely hears it over the sound of Ace’s boots on the wood, the heavy tread while he walks away. “We have some decisions to make that he can’t be a part of.”

“You’re not seriously going to just let him do this.” There’s a mutter, so soft Saber barely hears it even as focused as he is. Saber’s pretty sure he didn’t imagine the way Deuce stiffened, either, but the man just shakes his head.

“Right now, we can’t do anything. So we have to think. It’s already hard, let’s not make it harder.”

_I’m sorry. We had fun, right?_

Ace never even looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure all of these characters exist. Like. Mostly sure. 84% sure. Cheers~


	3. Chapter 3

“What if we attacked at night?”

“You’re crazy. That’s just like Banshee’s plan to knock him out! Impossible!”

“Well we have to do _something_ or Captain’s really gonna-”

“There’s no _gonna_ about it, it’s already done. We’re not a crew anymore, and stop calling him Captain.”

“Don’t say that! He’s _Captain_. No stupid anchor mustache giant is _gonna_ tell me otherwise.”

_Another one?_ Masked Deuce suppressed a sigh, exhaustion and annoyance wearing on his nerves in equal measure by this point. Stubborn to a gritty, desperate fault, that was the Spade way alright. He suppressed a snort, tilting his head to study the newest huddle of sorry vagabonds that had formed out of the remnants of Ace’s traumatized crew. So far he’d only needed to step in twice, most of these conversations had petered out before anyone could really get fired up enough to try and start acting for real.

He met Mihar’s interested gaze for a moment (as well as two men with covered eyes could) and shook his head slightly. It freed up one of their key strategists to wander around the moping group at least, but even he hadn’t need to worry. Aggie’s stubborn declaration had met with a shared silence that was half frustration and half strangled restraint.

They were _mourning_. The whole damn lot of them left stricken and grieving. When this was over he was going to dunk that flame-brained head of his Captain’s in freezing water and _keep him there._ Let him soak it all up and let the crew mother him when he was done for being such a colossal idiot and making Deuce deal with all of this. So out of it he couldn’t even throw them a party.

“Planning was never Ace’s greatest strength,” Skull mused quietly. The man had hunkered down in a relatively isolated spot, and unless Deuce missed his mark entirely (which never happened, thank you) it wasn’t entirely to avoid drawing the ire of everyone else who responded to listlessness with anger.

“The man’s certainly got terrible timing,” Deuce agreed.

“We all got careless, boss.”

And, well, Deuce couldn’t rightly deny that. It was their own damn fault, getting swept up in Ace’s impulsive habits and not recognizing the strange fever pitch he’d thrown himself into after everything else that had happened. He couldn’t even lie to himself. There’d been a part of him – a strong part – that had figured Ace would do what he always did, find a way to win over their enemy and leave at least on okay terms if not unscathed.

Five days watching him duke it out with Jinbe had done nothing to circumvent that feeling. He’d gotten as close as he’d dared at the end of that, and he was positive they were both about as happy as they could’ve been beaten half to hell after the non-stop fighting. (He’d thought that was impressive. And then the Moby Dick had tried to swallow him whole and he’d seen the heights of that endurance. And the limits.)

A friend of a Shichibukai, a friend of an Emperor – because Deuce wasn’t about to call the weird as hell bonding session they’d had with Red-Haired and his crew anything else – hell, Ace had managed to make friends out of a Marine. Offered the crazy stubborn woman a spot on their ship, even. Anytime. He was the most polite pirate on the damn seas for fuck’s sake. It hadn’t felt at all strange to believe that Ace could pull the impossible once more and do it all again. In a way, he sort of _had._ Whitebeard liked him so much Ace was one of his sons now, after all. They just hadn’t realized that would be such a dangerous thing.

And that, as the person who was supposed to watch _out_ for these kinds of pitfalls, was Deuce’s fault if someone had to be blamed at all.

“The real question,” Skull said, placid voice cutting into Deuce’s spiraling thoughts, “is why he surrendered. Extra pressure? Or because he wanted to join?”

“The Whitebeards haven’t threatened us, no matter how rude we managed to get Ace’s assassination attempts is always going to trump what we can do.”

“You don’t think he’s going to try again when we’re not ready bargaining chips on board?” Deuce snorted before Skull get alarmed.

“If that were the case he wouldn’t have branded his back. He’s a member of the Whitebeard pirates.” For now. “And you’re wrong. That’s not the real question. The real question is what are the Spades going to do now?”

They were a sorry bunch, but they’d always been that. They were drifting now, but that wasn’t a new feeling. And for all the reasons to feel betrayed, Deuce knew there were worse causes. Besides, it wasn’t _Ace_ they resented. He might have lost but he was strong. The strongest they knew. That hadn’t changed. He rolled to his feet, whistling sharply and frowning down at the listless looks the lot of them gave him. “Alright, get up! We’ve been sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves long enough. We have to be ready to get off this ship soon enough, and we’re going to need to secure as much supplies as he can before Ace starts getting ideas and decides we need a little heated encouragement to get moving.”

A fair amount of them cringed. The rest of them stared blankly.

“Are you supposed to be our captain now?” Cornelia sneered, lounged back and half-drunk from confiscated booze no one had been brave enough to ask the origins of.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much,” Saber cautioned and held both hands up when she turned her glare to him.

“Shut up. I’m allowed to mourn. Go play pirates somewhere else. With Skull maybe.” Her hand tightened around the bottle, lips curling and switching targets. “That’s what you do right? Hop from ship to ship lounging about and pretending you’re a part of us? Don’t make me laugh.”

“The only joke right now is you,” Deuce observed neutrally, head tilting to avoid the bottle that went sailing for his face. “Portgas D. Ace has disbanded the Spade pirates, effective the moment he stepped foot out of that door. His last orders were to step foot on that island, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. But he didn’t give any orders for what to do after that, and he gave us leave to go wherever we want, didn’t he?”

Deuce felt the smile stretch his lips, wide and cold and sharp enough to make them all stiffen up and pay attention. “I never really wanted to be a pirate, but Ace went and made me one anyway. So that’s what I’m going to _do._ If you all want to go back to what you were before that’s your choice, out of respect for Ace I won’t force you. But here’s the thing, Ace didn’t say one word about not reforming. Did he?” The silence that followed was charged, tense and uneasy, teetering on a hopeful edge that hurt to think about with no guiding flame at the heart of it. Deuce didn’t have a happy laugh or cheerful smile to offer them. But he did have understanding, and he did have a plan, and all the cunning that kept him valuable and their crew alive in the face of Ace’s antics.

“We still have our ship,” Mihar prodded gently, a grimly satisfied look on his own face at the prospect of doing something – anything else.

“And our flag,” Skull declared firmly. “Really, as long as we keep that it’s all we need, right?”

The resident pirate expert _would_ know.

“We’re not just going to attack the Moby Dick again… are we?” Saber asked quietly. Deuce shook his head.

“Time to make a choice. I have a plan, and it involves getting our Captain back at the end, but I need to know if anyone’s not in. I’d understand. _Ace_ would understand.”

For a long time no one answered, no one moved, most of them didn’t have to. Deuce didn’t look away from Cornelia, waited patiently for her to breathe deep and grumble before slamming her hand down on the table.

“Well spit it out already,” she demanded gruffly, but her eyes held nothing but excitement. “Let’s hear what comes next.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Robynx, who just happened to stop on by and liked it enough to say hello. I hope this one's enjoyable too.

For such a rowdy bunch, the Spade Pirates were a cordial group as they left the Moby Dick. Or – well, they were an organized one, anyway. After their own haphazard attempts at sabotage, their fierce determination to dog their captain’s steps, their stubborn refusal to lay down and just give it up already – it spoke a lot about them. A lot about their Captain, too.

Thatch sent their newest little brother a sidelong look. He stood on the upper deck, leaning on the railing and watching his old crew with a critical stare that reminded him of Marco counting heads. It was adorable, even if he looked entirely too serious. Really, it wasn’t like they couldn’t have also stayed. Wasn’t like Pops would have refused them, but no one had brought it up since the single time Haruta had pointed it out and Ace had shut down hard – prickly as ever. It hadn’t lasted long, but it was enough to remind them they had a lot left to learn about their newest member and no one really wanted to push after he’d finally decided to join what he couldn’t beat up.

He was going to have twitchy moments with his knives for _months_ thanks to Ace’s antics against his Captain. An ineffectual attack was still an attack, and for all that Ace finally accepting them was inevitable Thatch wasn’t surprised to see the wide gap around the space he’d temporarily claimed for himself still. They all had a long way to go before they were fully done reeling. His plans for the party tonight would help, but that was all later stuff.

This, now, was something he should at least try to start fixing. He hadn’t missed the furtive looks that the crew below kept sneaking up, either. And, okay, they might not be exactly thrilled but at least they’d know Ace wasn’t going to be stuck _alone_ forever. No one really wanted that for him.

This in mind, Tatch strides forward with determination even if he’s sure Ace probably won’t appreciate the company. He doesn’t touch – because he _does_ have restraint thank you – but he leans in close enough to feel the heat that comes naturally to Fire Fist now. Ace doesn’t acknowledge him right away, eyes still scanning the group that’s forming a very loose line down with crates of stuff Thatch doesn’t want to think about the origins of.

There’s nothing relaxed in Ace, not from his too even breathing to the guarded way he’s digging his forearms into the railing. Thatch maybe doesn’t get why they’re leaving, why if they’re so important to each other they’re refusing to just stay, but he understands losing something important. Understands watching it _walk away_. He doesn’t need to know Ace at all to have misplaced sympathy for that sort of thing. He can’t help but wonder which side chose this – the Spades, or Ace himself.

The First Mate – the one with the swirly mask and the blue hair – turns and looks up at him sharply. At Ace. His grin is easy though while his grumbling crewmates continue around him. He doesn’t call out like Thatch half expects him to, and Ace doesn’t twitch or flinch away – or even growl under his breath – like Thatch fully expects him to. Instead they just stop. And stare.

And stare.

And…stare.

He doesn’t stop grinning, settled easily on the balls of his feet with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his green jacket. Thatch peeks, can’t _not_ , only to find Ace has a painfully wistful smile on his own face. The kind of look that Thatch didn’t even know he could make – the kind that makes him sort of want to grab onto that man and tie him to the mast of the ship until he agrees to stay despite whatever else is going on. If not for Ace’s sake, then for the rest of Pop’s crew, who are bound to be sent through their paces all over again while Ace settles into whatever his place is going to be.

It’s not the longing even though that’s interesting. There’s something happy in Ace’s faint smile. Something that’s real and small and grows just a little bit as the last of the crew leaves and only he remains standing on the ship. He bows with a flourish, all theatrics while he flicks something small and flat – a card? – through his fingers before extending it out in front of him and then straightening. He lifts the card higher, flicks it up and-

Ace snorts. Rolls his eyes hard enough it looks like it might have hurt him a little, but something in his shoulders gives and he flicks his fingers and there’s a burst of red flame in the middle of the sky that grows and grows and writhes until it’s the shape of a spade. There’s cheering from the island, loud and raucous, and Ace shakes his head and mutters, “Idiots.”

Thatch grins despite himself, even hearing the hostile bite to his tone – maybe Ace is just Like That – and watches the spade twist and furl in on itself in a spiral of harmless fire until it’s extinguished again. The show was all in the air, harmlessly away from the wood and the furled sails but by the time Thatch has torn his eyes away from the little show the man has followed the rest of his crewmates. Hops nimbly onto the shore.

All at once Ace droops over the railing, a ragged sigh dragged from his chest.

“Are you okay?” He’s a little worried, but Ace turns his head slowly and when he looks at him for once his stare isn’t the hateful thing Thatch had gotten used to. It’s not the blistering confusion either, which is also a step up, but leaves him at a bit of a loss to interpret the expression. He smiles all crooked and silly, slanted with a hard edge Thatch warily respects but also wants to pound out of him.

“I couldn’t be better,” he answers. Thatch eyes him dubiously, and then there’s a brief muttering that draws his attention back down. Ace is already pushing himself up and stepping back from the railing, turning to leave but a loud voice cuts out before he can complete the motion.

“Hey Whitebeard!” Blue Hair is grinning still, hopping happily back onto the ship and making his way closer. Eyes only for Pops who’d decided to sit and watch everything happen with suspicious amounts of silence. Ace is already turning, expression familiar and half-way to murderous and insultingly panicked. Exactly what does he think they’re going to do to the guy, anyway?

There’s fire licking around clenched fists.

Pops is looking down with interest, and Blue Hair just keeps walking, Ace simmering kind of literally. He’s going to be uncomfortably hot to stand near if he keeps this up. If this is _another_ attack Thatch is going to do worse than send this guy overboard. A few shifting personnel appear to be of the same mind, and a quick glance to dock and shore prove that the Spades expected whatever this is.

“Deuce!” Ace snaps, steps forward with a foot braced hard on the railing like he’s about to launch himself over it, the licks of fire now lines snaking up his arms. Deuce stops but doesn’t look at anyone but Pops. Spreads his hands kind of helplessly out to the sides.

“I’d like to join your crew.”

Ace _vaults_ over the edge. Deuce scrambles just a little to escape, nimbly weaving around Ace’s wild lunges that are at least as serious as all the attempts he’d made on Pops’ life. Deuce looks like he’s having the time of his life, seconds away from _losing_ that life, but when Ace gets hands on him there’s a remarkable lack of singe marks or fire or screaming.

And then Deuce headbutts Ace, sends his former Captain teetering back on a stumble, and Deuce knocks an arm free from his jacket, slings his own around Ace’s shoulders while the man bristles and growls and looks like he’s about to start yelling as soon as he decides where he wants to start.

“So how about it?”

Pops regards them both a moment longer, from Ace’s tense pleading expression to Deuce’s steady one. There’s more than just Ace’s tension in the air, even if it’s a little ridiculous watching Fire Fist try to elbow his former First Mate and his masked friend calmly squirm to try and side step those same acts – wincing every time he fails.

The answer is obvious.

Of course Pops laughs.


End file.
